


the game day spirit

by you_idjits



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean and Cas and Sam watch the Superbowl, First Kiss, M/M, Superbowl XLIX, They're all Seahawks fans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:31:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_idjits/pseuds/you_idjits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas and Sam watch the Superbowl. Here's the plan: Dean is going to watch his football game and drink his beer and probably shout at the TV a few times. He is going to ignore Cas’s knee pressing up against his own. He is going to ignore the way Cas leans forward, eyes bright, on each third down. He is going to ignore the way Cas’s face splits into a grin at the first Seahawks touchdown.</p><p>Written by a grumpy Seahawks fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the game day spirit

“Come on, Cas,” Dean says, “it’s the Superbowl.”

“Your culture has an odd fascination with American football,” Cas says, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I have no interest in taking part.”

“You know what? I don’t care.” Dean tugs the oven open for the last tray of nachos. “You’re human now, and humans watch the Superbowl.”

“I don’t understand. Why?”

“’Cause it’s fucking amazing,” Dean says. He holds out a handful of Skittles to Cas, who picks out the purple ones. God, what a dork. Nobody likes the purple ones.

“That’s not a good answer.”

“Okay, okay, fine. It unites our country. It brings us together. Something like that?”

“I don’t think it brings Seattle and New England together.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the– that’s not the point. You gotta get into the game day spirit.”

Cas frowns. He touches the pads of his fingers to his left cheek, where Dean had smeared blue and green stripes this morning. It had been a weirdly personal moment, Dean’s hands on Cas’s face, Cas’s eyes blue and wide. “So we’re cheering for the, ah, the Seahawks?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, “of course. Marshawn Lynch is the beast.”

Cas blinks slowly. He cocks his head to the side. “Humanity is strange,” he says, by which he means, _Dean, you’re strange._ Dean shoves his shoulder.

“Whatever, nerd. Come on, Sam should be back with the beer soon. Game’s on in ten.”

So they watch the game together, the three of them crowded onto the thrift-store couch in the living room. Cas gets caged in between Sam and Dean, elbows knocking. At kickoff, Dean glances over, and fuck, Cas is cute when he squints.

Nope. He is not thinking things like that. He is going to watch his football game and drink his beer and probably shout at the TV a few times. He is going to ignore Cas’s knee pressing up against his own. He is going to ignore the way Cas leans forward, eyes bright, on each third down. He is going to ignore the way Cas’s face splits into a grin at the first Seahawks touchdown.

“So,” Dean says, when it’s fourteen-all at halftime. “Tell me again why the Superbowl is stupid?”

“The sense of anticipation is thrilling,” Cas says. “And the ads are very endearing. I liked the one with the horse and the puppy.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, “Budweiser always does good ads.”

“You mean this is a recurring thing?”

“Sure. Lot of people watch for the ads.”

Cas turns to Dean. His face is so open. It catches Dean off-guard; he hasn’t seen that kind of genuine delight in Cas’s eyes since before the Fall.

“Dean,” Cas says, “this is very nice.”

For a moment Dean loses his words. His mouth feels dry. He claps a hand on Cas’s knee and tries to make it casual. “See? I told you so.”

“You did,” Cas says. “I admit it. The Superbowl is amazing.”

“Yeah, but– it’s not like everybody watches the Superbowl because it’s amazing. The Superbowl is amazing because everybody watches it.”

“Oh,” Cas says. He smiles, and Dean’s heart beats a little faster.

When the Seahawks take the lead, Dean and Sam whoop and cheer and dance around the room. Cas stays on the couch, but his grin cracks his face wide open.

“I don’t understand,” Cas says, shaking his head. “I don’t understand. This is a wonderful feeling, and I don’t understand it at all.”

Yeah, Dean thinks. That’s how he feels when he looks at Cas sometimes.

It’s a tense game, but a good game. The Seahawks are up by ten, and then the Patriots take the lead, and now they’re down to two minutes and the Seahawks have the ball and– _holy shit, that catch._

This time, Cas is off the couch and dancing around. Twenty seconds to go and they have three plays, Lynch just has to run it in. Common sense. Sam and Dean and Cas sit down again. Cas taps his foot in a nervous pattern. Dean puts his hands together and honest-to-God prays. Doesn’t know to whom, or why, because Dean’s really, really not the praying type, but here he is.

Wilson passes off the ball to Lynch. They make it look easy.

Sam drops his beer. The scene on screen turns to brilliant greens and blues.

Dean takes Cas’s face in his hands and kisses him.

At first, all he feels is the energy in the air and the electric beat of his heart. Cas tastes like tortilla chips.

And then he pulls away, and the TV is so, so loud, but Sam and Cas are so, so quiet.

“Did you just–” Cas says.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Yeah, I think I did.” They stare at each other for a while, green eyes on blue just like the fucking Seahawks colors, because fuck, this is it. This is it.

“Go Seahawks,” Sam says, kind of weakly. Cas’s eyes flick down to Dean’s lips.

Yeah. Go Seahawks, or something.

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted on [tumblr](http://shootingstarcas.tumblr.com/post/109847290896/the-game-day-spirit-aka-how-i-wish-the-superbowl).


End file.
